


Rock Those Blue Jeans, Baby

by shakespearesque



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, aiden the enabler, x factor - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 22:20:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakespearesque/pseuds/shakespearesque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis has a hate/love relationship with the video diaries. He has a love/love relationship with Harry, though, and the video diaries don't help with that at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rock Those Blue Jeans, Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Brand New by Amie Miriello, aka my absolute number one Louis/Harry song.
> 
> A bit of side Matt/Aiden, too, because I didn't think I'd be able to write XFactor without it.

He’s disgusting himself with his complete and utter inability to keep his hands out of Harry’s curls. 

He sits there at his laptop an hour or so after their first video diary’s been posted, their first time talking to the internet by themselves as One Direction, five boys who’ve just met recently but already love each other and love singing, and he watches it. Louis watches the video diary and pays explicit attention to what he’s doing, to make sure he isn’t being a complete nutter in front of their burgeoning fanbase (he is) and to make sure he doesn’t look too obvious with Harry (he does.)

He watches as the Louis onscreen strokes through Harry’s hair and massages Harry’s face and keeps looking at him, and he honestly hadn’t been doing it on purpose when they were recording he'd just _done it_. He couldn’t have helped it if he’d tried, though, probably.

As he’s watching, he’s briefly proud of his onscreen self for touching Liam on the shoulders when Liam was talking, but it still didn’t stop his onscreen self from glancing over at Harry, Harry who _wasn’t_ talking. Louis thinks maybe he needs to tone it down. And then Harry touches his arm onscreen, calls him one of his best friends, and it floods back and Louis can’t. 

Harry’s sort of gorgeous, is the thing. He has luscious hair and a cherry mouth and he’s Louis’s favorite size of person (slightly smaller than him.) He has a warm, deep voice and this gigantic beanie he wears sometimes and he is irresistible to everyone ever, but especially Louis. It had been sort of like this. The first time Louis had seen him, he’d thought, “aww.” The second time, which was the first time he’d heard Harry sing, he’d thought, “well, damn.” The third time, sometime after that during bootcamp when he’d actually talked to him, he’d thought, “fucking Christ I am done for.” It had only taken that long. It had only taken until the first time they actually formally met. And now they were in a band, and they were together, and he and Harry got along so well and the whole thing was just overwhelming and Louis is _happy_.

He shuts his laptop because he feels like all of this can be seen on his face in the fucking video diary.

“Hey Lou,” says that voice he was just thinking about, and Louis realizes that he can’t even care that he looks obvious.

“Harry!” he says, turning and grinning ambiguously. “I’ve just watched the video diary. My hair looked like shit, why didn’t anyone tell me?” He laughs, and Harry comes over and sits down next to him on the couch.

“Let me see, then. I didn’t think your hair looked like shit, and I probably would have noticed.” Harry’s nose wrinkles when he smiles at Louis.

Louis opens his laptop again, but then shuts it. He doesn’t want to have to watch it with Harry, God. “Nah, it’s okay. I’ll just have to make sure my hair looks excellent this week.” He grins cockily and throws an arm around Harry’s shoulder.

Harry pauses, pushes his gigantic beanie around on his head. “I came in here to ask you something, but I’ve forgotten what it was,” he says. He looks over at Louis almost questioningly and then throws a leg across the seat, on Louis.

“Well, can you remember what made you want to ask?” Louis asks, Harry’s leg in his lap. He gets quite excited when people forget what they have to say to him.

“Not at all,” he says. “I was with Liam and Zayn, and they were wondering where you were, so I was looking for you, but I had something I wanted to _ask_. I can’t remember what it was. I hate when this happens.” He slides a little so he’s more comfortably draped over Louis.

“Mm, don’t worry about it, Hazza,” he says. Harry grins at him and Louis just wants to touch his hair.

\---

By the time the second video diary recording comes around, Louis has it stuck in his brain that he’s not going to be so obvious.

He sits down and watches it once it’s been posted, and the first thing he notices is that everyone is in the same place they were for the first video diary except he and Harry. He’d actually sort of orchestrated that, making sure he was at the bottom so he wasn’t staring at Harry the whole time, and he thinks it probably helped, but it’s still a noticeable thing. He’s pretty sensitive at this point.

He watches himself and thinks he did a pretty good job. He was more of an idiot this time than last, a lot closer to his normal self. He doesn’t have any objections. He thinks he looks kind of good with his hood up like he had it. He thinks he’s funny, too, because he’d purposefully messed up his hair several times during the thing. He wonders if Harry will notice, after what Louis said about his hair last week.

Harry comes in just as Louis’s thinking about him. “Watching the video diary?” he asks, smirking.

Louis nods, looks at Harry and his warm purple hoodie, and thinks “Another week together.” He suddenly wants to say it out loud, just to hear it. “Another week together,” he says, and it sounds like he means the band. 

“We’ll have loads of weeks together,” Harry says, a bit confused. “Assuming people keep voting. Girls. Assuming girls keep voting.”

Louis chuckles. “Right. So how’d my hair look this time?” he asks. He’s a bit impatient with things like that. He doesn’t want to wait to see if Harry will bring it up.

Harry laughs. “Marvelous, Lou. Just marvelous.” They laugh at each other. Harry sits down again, just like last week, and throws his legs over Louis’s lap.

“Hey,” he says. Louis tugs on one of the drawstrings of his hoodie. “I know it’s been a whole week since I brought it up, but I remember what I wanted to ask you.”

Louis freezes, suddenly feeling like something serious is going to happen. All week he’d sort of been avoiding touching Harry, retracting his grabby hands whenever Harry’s hair was within a one-meter radius and he started to try to touch, sitting on Zayn’s lap instead of Harry’s, poking Liam in the cheeks, playfully slapping Niall. He’s beginning to miss Harry’s soft baby skin and soft baby curls and very comfortable, chair-like lap, if he’s honest, but he isn’t always honest.

He waits for Harry to go on, hoping it isn’t going to be anything serious.

“I was just wondering,” Harry says, “if you would mind if Liam and I switched beds. I’ve already asked Liam, and he doesn’t care, and you’re in his bottom bunk so I wanted to ask you, too, to make sure that was okay, because—”

“Harry,” Louis interrupts, grinning.

Harry stops rambling. “Yeah?”

Louis can’t stop smiling, because apparently he has no control of his facial muscles when Harry’s around, and he _likes_ that Harry wants to share the same bunk bed, even though that’s _stupid_. “It’s fine. I don’t mind at all.”

Harry breathes out, relieved. “Great, sleeping above Zayn was sort of freaking me out. He doesn’t like when I have to climb down when he’s sleeping and he wakes up the latest and I thought you probably wouldn’t mind.” He’s grinning, all dimply and adorable and Louis feels warm in his stomach.

“I don’t mind,” Louis says. “It’ll probably be rather fun, actually. We can gossip deep into the night.” He lets himself poke Harry’s left dimple because it’s his favorite and it won’t go away right now.

Harry laughs softly. “Cool. Speaking of, I heard that yesterday Mary saw Aiden naked, getting out of the show—”

Louis gasps and claps a hand over Harry’s mouth ostentatiously. “Harry! We can only gossip during the night!” Harry giggles—actually giggles—and Louis is proud of himself. He takes his hand away, acutely aware of what he was just touching, and grins at Harry. “When are you moving in?”

\---

It’s not a big move, Harry’s just about three meters closer to Louis when he’s sleeping, but for some reason it makes them inseparable. 

One night, Harry crawls into Louis’s bunk and they talk about their friends back home and what classes they liked and their first kisses—their real first kisses, not the ones they’ve had to talk about in interviews. Louis is so, so happy and Harry is so, so warm, and Louis has to prod Harry to wake him up when he falls asleep next to him because he doesn’t want Harry to wake up and see they’re in the same bed and see that Louis has a proximity-boner, or something. That would just be embarrassing. 

They leave the house a few times together, go shopping and see the fans ( _the fans_ , it’s still so weird to say) and go eat lunch at this place with really good smoothies. The other boys notice they’ve been together a lot but don’t say anything. Aiden, however, seems to like to ask Louis things. Things like how-do-you-feel-about-Harry, and what-do-you-think-about-Harry’s-gray-trackies, and why-do-you-smell-like-Harry’s-aftershave-first-thing-in-the-morning. Louis seems to like to punch Aiden in the bellybutton when Aiden seems to like to ask things.

Louis doesn’t only punch Aiden when he asks, though, okay. He hates him for asking, but honestly, if he were to tell anyone in the world about his gigantic big fat Greek wedding (crush) on Harry, it’d probably be Aiden. He actually sort of does tell him, in a way. When Aiden asks how he feels, Louis says, “I feel like I need to take care of him. He’s mine.” (When he thinks about it later, he feels the second part is slightly truer than the first.) When Aiden asks what he thinks about Harry’s gray trackies, Louis says, “They’re comfortable.” (When he thinks about it later, he realizes Aiden was trying to get Louis to say he thought Harry looked good in them. Instead, Louis went and blabbed about the fact that he’s worn them.) When Aiden asked why he smelled like Harry’s aftershave, well, Louis didn’t have an answer. He went quiet and thought about how nice Harry smells and how nice it would be to roll over in bed and breathe in that Harry-smell and then he got sort of twisty in his stomach and went to go drink a glass of orange juice.

The third video diary comes up sometime after that and Louis watches it afterward and feels like he’s falling down a well. 

It’s a Harry Styles well. It’s a very long, deep well, with a gravelly voice and curls and a soft tummy and firm thighs. It’s a well that Louis thinks about a whole lot, sitting on the couch after he’s watched the video. He’s actually, at this point, sort of afraid Harry will come in like he always does and Louis will fall on his lap, uncontrolled, and start spewing his feelings everywhere. Harry comes in anyway, as if on cue, because he is predictable. Louis is also a bit predictable in terms of where he’ll be approximately three hours after the weekly video diary is posted.

“Hey,” Harry says, sitting down on the couch, not touching Louis. Bells go off in Louis’s head.

“Hey,” he says back, as nonchalantly as he can manage. “Y’alright?”

“Yeah,” Harry says. “Just was wondering where you were.”

Louis snorts. “As if you didn’t know.”

Harry grins shyly, and it looks weird on this face that was built for confidence. “As if I didn’t know,” he repeats.

Louis crosses his legs, sitting completely on the couch, and looks at Harry.

“Did you watch the video diary?” Harry asks. Louis wonders if Harry’s watched it, because it sort of sounds like he has.

“No,” Louis lies. If Harry’s watched it, he might want to talk about it, and Louis really does not want to talk about it.

“Your laptop’s right there,” Harry says, like he doesn’t entirely believe Louis.

“You want me to watch it?” Louis asks. He’s getting more and more apprehensive as Harry sits there, and Harry isn’t supposed to make him this apprehensive. He wishes Harry would throw his legs over him like usual or _something_.

Harry shrugs. “You don’t have to. Just curious.”

“Hmm,” Louis says. He feels awkward. He feels out of place. He wants to curl up in his bottom bunk and listen to Alicia Keys and determinedly not think about this.

“I watched it,” Harry blurts. He looks confused at his own voice. He bites his lip.

“Yeah?” Louis asks, unsurprised. “What’dya think?”

Harry shrugs again, sinks a little bit further into the couch. “Not much.”

Louis wants to scream. He wants to listen to Alicia Keys under the covers and scream into his pillow.

“Oh,” he says. 

Harry nods. “Yeah.” He twists his hips and puts his legs gingerly over Louis’s lap and looks at him, judging. “Are you sure you didn’t watch it?” he asks.

Louis swallows and rolls his eyes up to the ceiling, pauses for entirely too long. “I watched it,” he finally admits.

Harry breathes out through his nose. “Listen, it’s not a big deal, I just thought maybe—”

“It is a big deal, Harry,” Louis says definitively. “I’m hungry, I’ll see you later.” He gets up, like a stupid arsehole, and walks out.

He finds Aiden in the kitchen, of course, murmuring something to Matt as they stand in front of the blender. They both look up when Louis stomps onto the linoleum.

“Hey, Lou, what’s up?” Aiden asks. Louis makes his eyes as dark as possible and grabs a banana off the bench beside the blender.

“Can we talk?” Louis asks him lowly, and Matt sort of looks at Aiden questioningly and flips his hat around on his head like he feels like he’s taking up too much space. Aiden nods at Matt and Matt nods back and walks out. Louis can’t help but think about how he and Harry do that sort of telepathic thing, and it hurts.

“What is it, babe?” Aiden asks as soon as he can, motioning for Louis to sit down on the barstool next to him.

Louis sighs. “Harry,” he says. “Goddamn video diaries.”

Aiden’s face scrunches up in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Louis puts the banana down and spins it, thinking. When he finally speaks, his voice is weak and he says, “I really want him, Aiden, I want to hug him and kiss him and cuddle with him and I want him to be mine.”

Aiden puts a warm hand on Louis’s back. “Lou, as far as I know you already do all those things.”

Louis moves the banana out of the way and crosses his arms on the table and squishes his face into them. “Not like that,” he moans. “I want him to—know why we’re doing it. I want it to be the same for him.” He sniffs pitifully.

“Louis,” Aiden coos sympathetically. He rubs his hand in a few comforting circles. “What’s this got to do with the video diary?”

Louis moans again. “I bit his shoulder. I wouldn’t stop looking at him. I almost said I wanted to date him, and for some reason I thought he was going to say me, and I was so _obvious_!” He gurgles miserably.

Aiden almost snorts at that. “You what?”

“I bit his shoulder. I almost said I wanted to date him,” Louis mewls again, unhappily. 

Aiden tries to stop his lips from twitching into a grin. “Can I watch it?”

Louis shakes his head, still face down on his arms. “No. I never want to think about it again.” 

Aiden rolls his eyes. “Louis,” he says again, firmly this time. 

“What?” Louis says quietly.

“I know you don’t want to talk about this right now, but have you ever watched _Harry_ during your video diaries?” 

Louis lifts his head an inch, peeking out with one eye at Aiden. “No?” he says.

Aiden bites his lips together, nodding minutely at Louis’s one visible eye. “Maybe you should try that.” He pauses. “And I know he didn’t say he wanted to date you, like you thought he would, but he can’t just say he wants to date one of his bandmates.”

Louis puts his face back down. “ _I_ was going to,” he says. “And watching Harry won’t do anything. I hate video diaries.”

Aiden sighs. “You don’t hate video diaries,” he says consolingly. “Babe, you’ve gotta let me help you. You’re shit at helping yourself, apparently. I’ve seen the other two video diaries and I think you’re being way too hard on yourself. Watch Harry.”

Louis shakes his head, still face down. “My laptop is in the room I left Harry in.”

Aiden raises an eyebrow. “You were talking to Harry before this?”

Louis groans, exasperated. “Obviously, mate. He said he watched it and then I got scared and left.”

Aiden uses both hands and pulls Louis upright. “Listen. Me and Matt kissed yesterday. He came up to me and he was really nervous and it was adorable and he just—told me he thought I was fit. And it was so good and right and I honestly. I think Harry likes you, too. I haven’t talked to him, and I’ll feel so bad if I’m wrong that I’ll shave my head, but I think. He just looks at you like you’re the world, Louis. And you don’t see it because you’re too busy being sad that he likes girls.”

“I like girls,” Louis says.

Aiden flexes his fingers like claws in front of Louis’s face. “Exactly! And you like Harry. It’s possible for Harry to be the same way, you know. Anyway, were you listening to me? Just go fuckin’ talk to Harry. Go talk to him, please. If he wanted to talk to you after watching you bite his shoulder, he’s obviously not _scared of you_.”

Louis breathes in. He studies Aiden’s face, the sincerity, the quiff, the perfect skin, and nods weakly. 

“Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

Aiden nods self-righteously. “Great.”

“You and Matt kissed?” Louis asks suddenly. “Can I tell Harry?”

Aiden blushes the tiniest bit and grins. “You can tell him after you talk to him, and only after you talk to him.”

Louis licks his lips as if in preparation. “Okay,” he says again. “Okay.” He stands up, still upset but rejuvenated somehow, and goes back into the television room.

Harry is still on the couch.

“Hey,” Louis says breathlessly from the door.

Harry turns and looks at him. “What,” he says flatly.

“You’re still here,” Louis says. His resolve shakes a little as Harry just _looks_ at him.

“Yeah,” he says. Louis goes to sit next to him on the couch, moving Harry’s feet out of the spot in the middle Louis likes best.

“Listen, Harry,” he says. “I’m. I’m sorry I flipped out.”

Harry nods and doesn’t say anything.

“I just got a little overwhelmed, that’s all. I needed to breathe. I didn’t want to talk.”

Harry chirps quietly to interrupt. “ _I_ wanted to talk,” he says. “I just wanted to talk.”

Louis bites his lip. He scoots slightly out of his favorite spot so that he’s facing Harry. He thinks he can do it now. “What about?” he asks.

Harry shakes his hair out like he does sometimes when he’s nervous, but his voice sounds assured and calm. “About you. About me.”

Louis nods once to himself, very slowly. “Do you still want to?”

Harry shrugs to be difficult, but he’s kind of smirking. “I guess. Do you want to? I don’t like when you run out on me.”

Louis nods again. “I won’t ever do it again,” he says, and he means it.

Harry slides down so he’s laying down, half on the sofa and half not, looking up at Louis with his green eyes and doll eyelashes and cherrycherry lips. “Do you like me?” he murmurs softly. 

Louis pauses, because this is the moment _right here_ and it doesn’t feel as big and mountainous as he thought it would. It feels like he could tell Harry anything. Cosy Harry half on the sofa and half suspended in midair, or something. He nods and wonders if he’s blushing.

Harry doesn’t react yet, just looks up at Louis, his t-shirt riding up at his hip where it’s caught on the edge of the sofa. “Do you want me? Do you think about me?” he says, still in that soft, intimate voice.

Louis swallows and glances at the bright stretch of pale skin Harry’s displaying. He nods again. “A lot. All the time.”

Harry licks his lips, then, and Louis could just about strangle him. “Were you going to say me when we were asked who in the house we’d most like to date?” he asks, and Louis swallows again past the dryness in his throat.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I was going to, and for some stupid reason I thought you were going to say me, and when you didn’t I had to—I overreacted, and—”

Harry slides completely onto the floor with a thump, gravity pulling him off the couch and his face out of Louis’s sight.

“Come down here,” Harry says. Louis peeks over the edge of the couch at Harry, and he’s grinning wildly. “Come down here and stop being a twat and _kiss_ me, Louis.”

Louis whines accidentally in the back of his throat and he slides down to the floor, careful of Harry, and he lines up over him, knees on either side of Harry’s hips, arms beside his ears.

“You’re the twat,” Louis says, and he bends down and his chest is on Harry’s and they’re kissing, lips on lips, and Louis wants it all. Harry sighs happily through his nose and Louis takes that as a yes, opens his mouth the slightest bit and groans when he feels Harry’s tongue against his. When the kiss ends, Louis pulls back and looks at Harry lying on the floor like he is, looks at his flushed cheeks and his cherrycherrycherry lips and Louis feels oh so good.

“You could have done that sooner,” Harry says, staring at Louis’s mouth. Louis hits him playfully. 

“You could have told me to do that sooner.”

“You could do it again right now, please,” Harry says with a tinge of want in his voice, and Louis obliges. It’s just as good, if not better, this time. He thinks, fleetingly, maybe he was made to lie on Harry like this and kiss him. Harry opens his eyes when Louis pulls back and Louis grins at him before rolling off to the side, onto his back. His arms are getting tired, okay.

“Matt and Aiden kissed yesterday,” Louis says matter-of-factly, lying next to Harry on the floor. “Isn’t that sweet.”

Harry makes a little growling noise in this throat. “Dammit, they beat us.”

Louis laughs. “Be happy for them.” He realizes what Harry just said and grins. “We can be an ‘us,’ now?” he asks.

Harry laughs too. “Well, aren’t we already an ‘us?’”

Louis smiles. “You’re such a shit when you think you’re getting kisses. I’m never going to kiss you again.”

Harry absolutely cackles at that. “I’d like to see you try. No one can resist coming back for more, I’m Harry Styles.”

“See,” Louis says, grinning. “What’d I say.” Harry leans over and kisses Louis and, well, Louis can’t even pretend to be mad. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, you’re right.”

They just lay there, quiet, and it’s really nice.

\---

Louis goes back and watches Harry in the first three video diaries and hates himself a little for how worried he was before because Harry stares at him and no one else, literally. He buys an extra donut when he and Harry sneak out one morning before rehearsals and gives it to Aiden when they get back, even though he thinks Aiden really deserves about forty-two donuts.

\---

Video diary number four makes Louis happy when he watches it. He’d acted like a complete dumbass with that sash tied around his eyes but it doesn’t bother him in the slightest. When he watches it, he replays he and Harry’s high five about seven times because of how obvious they both are. He loves it. He _loves_ it.

Harry comes in afterward like he always does but this time he whispers in Louis’s ear that for their one-week-since-we-kissed celebration he wants to get Louis off. Louis thinks that sounds pretty cool.

“Christ,” he breathes when Harry gets on top of him on the couch. “You mean right now?”

“Sure,” Harry says, grinding down a little when he kisses Louis. “Sure, why not?”

Louis sighs. “Well, at least shut the goddamn _door_ ,” he says.

Harry sings back, “ _I chimed in with a haven’t you people ever heard of_ ,” and Louis rolls his eyes. 

“You’re intolerable, honestly. Panic at the Disco.”

Harry giggles and slides his hands up under Louis’s shirt. “You like it.” Louis wiggles under Harry’s warm hands. Of course he likes it. He more than likes it.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he says, arching up when Harry’s thumb catches on a nipple. Harry coerces him into pulling his shirt over his head and Louis raises an eyebrow. “We really doing this with the door open, Haz?” he breathes out. 

Harry looks at him. “Do you wanna get up and close it?” He doesn’t let Louis answer before he says, “Everyone’s out. I checked.”

“Jesus,” Louis says, wondering how that’s even possible. “Okay, then. Okay.” He tugs Harry’s shirt up, too, because he wants to feel skin on skin and he wants to see as much of Harry as he can right now.

“Okay,” Harry says. “Let me get your trousers off, help me a little.” Louis kisses him distracted, warm and wet and wanting, pausing Harry’s fingers right on the button of his jeans. 

“Harry,” Louis whines, Harry’s hands on him but not enough. “Please.” Harry groans and grinds down a little before undoing the button and tugging Louis’s trousers down. Louis is hard, really hard already, been getting hard since Harry’d gotten close enough to whisper in his ear and he just wants to touch Harry and he wants Harry to touch him and Harry is hard against his thigh he feels it through Harry’s jeans and Harryharryharrycherrycherrycherry Louis can’t think of anything except the fact that Harry has his hand on the crotch of Louis’s boxers.

“You’re incredible,” Harry breathes. He’s stroking the soft skin on the inner parts of Louis’s thighs, under the leg of his boxers, and Louis’s dick is twitching and he’s gasping and Harry’s eyes are dark and his voice is lusty and Louis could never have imagined this would be exactly like this. He whines when Harry’s fingers go too far and brush the crease where his thigh meets his groin.

“Fucking—Harry, can you,” he says, and Harry laughs throatily, kissing Louis’s chest, spidering his fingers to Louis’s twitching stomach and pulling down his boxers the full way, careful of Louis’s cock.

“I can do anything you want, Louis, tell me what you want me to do,” Harry says, and Louis squeezes his eyes shut against an onslaught of arousal. 

“I,” he says, gasping again as Harry slides a hand from Louis’s ribs to his arse, “just—touch me. Please. Fuck—ah— _Harry_.” Harry grabs Louis’s cock firmly in his hand and Louis doesn’t think he’s going to last long at all, not when Harry’s looking at him like that, not when Harry wants to be told what to do. “I’m not going to last,” Louis says, groaning as Harry strokes him. Harry grins and kisses Louis.

“I’m not either, honestly,” he says deeply. “You’re gorgeous like this.”

“I’m gorgeous all the time,” Louis says, his back arching upward. “More, Harry, oh.” Harry grinds down hard on Louis’s thigh and Louis thinks he’s actually about to come.

“Fuck,” Harry says. “Fuck—”

Harry’s wrecked voice and his cherrycherrycherrycherry lips are what do it. Louis comes all over Harry’s fist and Harry grinds down onto Louis with a deep moan and he’s coming in his jeans and saying Louis’s name and Louis amends his fleeting thought from last week and thinks maybe he was meant to make Harry come, and Harry was meant for him. 

Harry lays heavily on Louis and laughs, and Louis brushes his curls out of his eyes. “You’re amazing,” Louis says. “And a little dirty right now.”

Harry just gazes up at him, chin on Louis’s chest, eyes sparkling like he’s an actual cartoon character. “I thought about this all week, but it was never even close to as awesome.”

Louis laughs. “You always say silly things post-coital?”

“No,” Harry says, grinning dopily. “Do you?”

“No,” Louis says. “When’d you think about this, just out of curiosity?”

Harry laughs sleepily. “Wanking in the shower.” 

“Ah,” Louis says. “That’s a sight to imagine.”

“You’d love it,” Harry says, and Louis reaches up to pinch his cheek. 

“Let’s go get cleaned up, love,” Louis says, and he sits Harry up and then puts his pants back on and collects the rest of their clothes. Harry watches him like for his last birthday he wished for perfection and he got Louis. “Let’s go,” Louis says again, gently, and walks hand in hand with Harry to their room. He thanks the Great Granter of Wishes that Harry hadn’t been lying when he’d said everyone was out. 

They get cleaned up and fall asleep in Louis’s bottom bunk and Louis is glad to feel safe in the fact that Harry won’t be freaked out when he wakes up next to Louis.


End file.
